


Wind In Heaven

by Dracorex



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Linda is ever curious about the celestial, Lucifer is grumpy, discussion of the weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracorex/pseuds/Dracorex
Summary: A conversation about the nature of angel wings and the weather in Heaven.





	Wind In Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsAquaMarvella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAquaMarvella/gifts).



> Written to the prompt "blustery" for thedeckerstarnetwork's 2018 Naughty or Nice Exchange. 
> 
> Not quite in the holiday spirit, but I took one look at the prompt, imagined Lucifer with windblown hair, and the conversation happened XD. In fits and starts, but these two knew what they wanted to talk about and said conversation refused to go anywhere other than the direction it did.

“Oh-! …Lucifer, have you been-” Linda paused with a thoughtful frown “-flying?”

Shutting the door, Lucifer turned to glare at her; his outrage was rather comically offset by the windblown mess his sleek dark hair had become. “Of course not, Doctor,” he said exasperatedly. “Have you got a mirror I can borrow?”

Linda offered him the compact mirror from her purse. “What happened?”

“Bloody strong winds blowing today,” Lucifer growled, squinting down at the mirror he held in one hand as he combed through his hair with the fingers of his other. “As if it isn’t hot enough.”

“It’s the Santa Ana winds. Some people call them the devil winds,” Linda commented with a slight smile, not quite able to help herself.

Lucifer sighed irritably, snapping the compact mirror shut. His hair still looked slightly tousled, but it only improved his roguish charm. “You humans really do try to blame me for everything. I have _nothing_ to do with the weather. Not even Dad’s directly responsible for it, most of the time, as much as I hate to say it.”

There were any number of implications to explore in his words, but what Linda blurted out was, “So, what’s the weather like in heaven?”

The Devil gave her a wide-eyed look of annoyed bafflement, as if he couldn’t fathom why she would ask such a question. Perhaps he really could not; beyond the hellish red eyes or the white-feathered splendour of angelic wings, it was in these moments that Lucifer truly seemed oddly inhuman, when he took for granted many things beyond mortal reach, and yet could be so confused by a mostly ordinary question.

“Are there winds in heaven?” Linda prompted. “Do angels have trouble, um-” she gestured vaguely “-flying on a rainy day?”

Her own curiosity aside, it would probably be good for Lucifer to discuss the nature of being an angel without directly confronting his own feelings on it today. His emphatic rejection of his old name and his self-harm had made clear that he wasn’t ready for that yet.

The subject of heavenly weather, though, did appear to suitably skirt around those sore spots; Lucifer frowned, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves and settling back in that way which suggested he was provisionally accepting the current situation. “Not as such, no. It doesn’t rain in Heaven, not the way it does on Earth, with… puddles,” he eventually settled on. “Lightning and thunder and wet clothes, it’s all part of Earth. Of being here. There isn’t wind being a bloody nuisance like this.” He waved a hand at the window, a petulant note in his last sentence.

“So it’s smooth flying then? There’s no need to, groom your wings after-”

“Groom my- Doctor! They’re not _bird_ wings!” Lucifer sat up straighter, indignant. “Honestly, what are you thinking?”

“They have feathers,” Linda said mildly, maintaining her outward calm. “They’re flesh and blood, and they flap.” _They bled red blood on your apartment floor,_ she carefully did not say. _They went up in flames surprisingly easily, and burned hot and bright._

“They-” Lucifer stared at her, caught once more between indignation and bewilderment. “They are, and they aren’t,” he finally said. “I- they aren’t blasted pigeon wings. Flying isn’t…” he seemed to search for the right words. “When I abandoned Hell, I flew up here, but it wasn’t like I _flapped_ my way up through a tunnel. I simply arrived. Like stepping through a door, but there wasn’t a literal door, obviously.”

“Lucifer.” Linda selected her words carefully, as she decided how she was going to cope with this latest revelation. “Are you saying that when we needed the antidote formula to save Chloe’s life, that day, if you had your wings, we wouldn’t have needed to- to…”

“No,” he replied unhesitatingly, if somewhat disgruntled. “I’d have been there and back in a jiffy.” The implication of his own words seemed to sink in a moment later, and the Devil scowled. “No! No, Doctor, absolutely not! Those _things_ are _not_ a blessing! I don’t want them!”

“Why not?” she asked bluntly. “You keep saying that it’s your Father’s attempt at manipulating you, but I don’t understand. Why are you so certain it is?”

“Because it is!” Lucifer practically roared, coming to his feet in a single abrupt yet fluid motion. “Behave and He’ll reward you, act out - and out you go.” He paused, clearly biting back words, and Linda thought of Amenadiel, speaking of how badly he wanted his own wings back. For someone who so regularly indulged in mocking those around him, Lucifer could be oddly considerate. “I refuse to allow dear old Dad to dictate who I am,” and while there was no hellfire in those dark eyes, for a second she could see, with the cold fury in his bearing, what Lucifer could have been like as the leader of the rebellion, the Lord of Hell.

Linda managed to not flinch. He had punched a hole through the wall behind him once, but Lucifer - unlike his mother - had never hurt her, never so much as threatened her in jest. “Your wings remind you so strongly of Him.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. She rather thought that if they had been at Lux, Lucifer would be pouring himself a drink right now. “You asked me what the weather in Heaven is like,” he said slowly, the anger fading so that it only lurked in the crease between his brows, the downturned corner of his mouth, and the bitterness of his words. “It’s Father, ever-present. Every ray of warm light, every breath of wind.”

“I suppose you found it… stifling?” Linda suggested. She was still grappling with the concept herself, that everything was real and therefore God was actually the all-seeing, all-powerful guy who was everywhere, but there was knowing, and then there was _knowing_.

“Hell was, well, hell, but it had the advantage of Dad not being there.” There was a distant look on Lucifer’s face, and then he quietly admitted, “I once told Mum that Hell wasn’t home, and Heaven was Hell. I never lie… but I don’t think I realised just how true my words were.”

“Thank you for being honest about your feelings, Lucifer,” Linda told him. The wide-eyed fragility with which he regarded her was exactly why she thought it important to give reassurance. “Sometimes,” she cautiously continued, “when a situation has become… unhealthy and upsetting, for both parties involved, it may be necessary and even beneficial for you to remove yourself from that situation. But you also have to confront and accept the feelings involved before you can truly move past them. This was a good start.”

Speaking from personal experience, not that it currently bore mentioning.

Lucifer blinked at her, and then he sat down once more, making a face. “And that’s quite enough of that.”

“It’s okay. We can leave it at that for now. We can just” Linda gave a delicate shrug “talk about other things.”

“Not the weather, Doctor,” he retorted, and they both chuckled.


End file.
